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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27869046">Lonely</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotEvenCloseToStraight/pseuds/NotEvenCloseToStraight'>NotEvenCloseToStraight</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Short Stories! [67]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alpha Wade Wilson, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Awkward Flirting, Falling In Love, First Meetings, Fluff and Humour, Heat/rut, Idiots in Love, Insecure Wade Wilson, M/M, Mating Bonds, Omega Peter Parker, Spideypool - Freeform, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Texting, meeting online</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-11 00:34:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>15,814</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27869046</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotEvenCloseToStraight/pseuds/NotEvenCloseToStraight</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Omega!Peter is tired of spending heats alone. Being Spider-man means keeping secrets, which means none of his Alpha!friends can “help” because he can’t control his super strength or...webs... mid heat, which means Peter suffers through heat by himself and that is fun for literally no one.</p><p>Alpha!Wade hasn’t been with an Omega since before his mutation. Any physical contact these days only happens after he’s paid someone to deal with his mess, emotional support or even basic conversation is something he barely remembers and when he’s not on a job, Wade stays home alone, alone and alone. </p><p>There’s plenty of sites meant to bring Alphas and Omegas together, but neither Peter nor Wade are looking for a relationship. Peter needs something to help him through the hardest parts of heats and Wade is so desperate for someone to talk to that he’s fine never meeting up or even trading pictures. Matched up on a website, Peter and Wade start chatting and inevitably, things start to change between them. </p><p>When Peter realizes he’s never lonely when he’s talking to Wade, he asks the Alpha to meet face to face...</p><p>...but what happens when Wade’s answer is “No”?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>peter parker/ wade wilson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Short Stories! [67]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/786345</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>185</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1638</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This fic touches briefly on canon-Wade-esque mentions of depression, insecurity and su*cide, but the references are there and gone and the over all tone is light hearted. Just a quick TW so no one is caught off guard.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Peter’s phone was chiming again, text message alert after text message alert as his friends blew up the group chat trying to make plans for the night. Most days the Omega would make an effort to at least engage but today Peter ignored the noise in favor of holding heat packs to his stomach and burying himself under a pile of blankets. </p><p>It wasn’t like he was up for going to a movie or seeing a concert or even meeting up for pizza when he was this miserable. </p><p>
  <em>Chime chime chime.</em>
</p><p><em>Fuck </em>he was miserable. </p><p>Out of all the side effects Peter had expected from getting bit up by some insanely toxic spider, being afraid to have sex with someone hadn’t even been a passing thought. Extra strength? Sure. Webs? Well that had been awkward but he’d adjusted. Hyper sensitive <em>everything </em>had taken a longer adjustment period but these days Peter was doing just fine with it. Sex? Absolutely not. </p><p>During his first heat post-bite, Peter had snapped one of his <em>heftiest </em>dildos right in half when he squeezed at the pseudo knot a liiiiitle too hard. The silicone had warped and then just about disintegrated between Peter’s fingers and while that had been both disappointing and embarrassing enough, the prospect of doing something similar to a real live Alpha was enough to make the Omega take a vow of abstinence. </p><p>Abstinence and fucking <em>frustration</em>. </p><p>Peter wasn’t willing to risk hurting an Alpha during heat-- god, what if his <em>inside </em>muscles got all clenchy and broke things too??-- but he was getting annoyed with breaking his toys too. Good knotted toys were expensive and Peter was a broke, only part-time employed college student who couldn’t afford to keep replacing them every month. </p><p>Nope. Abstinence and fucking frustration it was, and the Omega curled into a ball and tried not to cry through one last, brutal round of heat cramps. </p><p><em>Chime chime chime.</em> </p><p>The worst part about being Spider-man was having to be alone in the moments when everyone <em>else </em>got to be with someone. Alright sure, the bullets and stress and general life threatening situations were shitty too but the <em>worst </em>thing about being Spider-man was being lonely all the time. </p><p>Years of keeping secrets from his friends meant that Peter had eventually just sort of disconnected from the group. He and MJ never had sleepovers and gossiped about Alphas anymore, Gwen worked for Oscorp and <em>god</em>, so many villains came out of Oscorp that Peter couldn't hear the name without wanting to sneer. Harry carried a grudge against Spider-man and that put an obvious sort of damper on their friendship, and Johnny always looked so hurt when Peter had to lie or change the subject or deflect that it was easier to just not talk to him. </p><p>Guilt over Uncle Ben and consistently lying to Aunt May about where he was and what he was doing had prompted Peter to move out and now he lived way across town from his Auntie’s usual great dinners and quick comfort. </p><p>He didn’t go out drinking with kids from University because he couldn’t really get drunk anyway and nightclubs made ye olde Spidey-sense go haywire. The Omega didn’t date for both those reasons as well as the aforementioned ‘<em>broke a dildo</em>’ reason, and since he was only freelance at the Bugle, he didn’t really have that option for making friends either. </p><p>Peter was <em>lonely</em>, lonely lonely all the damn time and it was always markedly <em>worse </em>during heat. Gwen and Harry and Johnny had stopped offering to help with that time of the month when post-bite Peter had practically snarled for them to leave him the hell alone, Aunt May and MJ always checked on him but usually only the once. His friends went on with their lives, included him in the group chat even though he never really responded and Peter lay there holding his hot compress and wished he could be open and honest with one of them without worrying about their reaction, wished he could just tell May the truth without putting her in danger from the actually astonishing amount of people that wanted Spidey dead. </p><p>Jerks, all of them. Who wants a New York City icon dead? That’s just <em>rude</em>.</p><p>The Omega was always <em>lonely </em>and heat always made it worse. Peter was cramping and clenching and desperate, half of him near delirious for a knot, the other half near tears just needing someone to hold him through the worst of it. Heat was only part sexual, all the other parts were supposed to be emotional reassurance and mental rest, whispered words of affection and breathing in the scent of someone he could trust.</p><p>But trust was a luxury Spider-man couldn’t afford, and with this particular heat ratcheting <em>painful </em>with hours still left to go, Peter reached for his phone and did something he’d been thinking about for ages, something he’d been too embarrassed to do before and something he would never ever ever tell anyone about…</p><p>
  <em>...Google Search: can I buy an Alpha’s clothes to help me through my heat? </em>
</p><p>The sheer amount of sites that came up in the search results was both a relief and sort of shocking. There were thousands of them, honest to God <em>thousands </em>of sites that were all meant for buying something <em>Alpha </em>to help with heat. </p><p>It took Peter a solid fifteen minutes to narrow the search down enough to avoid whatever ‘fresh Alpha specimens’ were and to dodge advertisements promising stinky Alpha panties--uhhh fucking yikes? After another fifteen minutes of clicking on and then away from the top few results, the Omega finally stumbled upon one that looked mostly legit and way less sleazy than the others. </p><p>
  <em>platonic-heat-help.com</em>
</p><p>The site was a platform for Alphas and Omegas to connect and trade articles of clothing to help with heat or rut. There was no money exchanged, pictureless profiles provided a list of items the person would be willing to send and the main notes of their scent, as well as what state they lived in and how soon they could have something in the mail. Age wasn’t important, neither was primary gender, it clearly wasn’t a dating or hook up site and based on the number of people in the chat rooms and the level of easy conversation, it was certainly a popular service, popular enough that Peter wondered why he’d never heard of it before. </p><p>Being able to hug on a blanket or hoodie that scented like <em>Alpha </em>would make his next heat so much easier so Peter tucked his heat bags closer and clicked on the ‘sign up’ banner before he lost his nerve. </p><p>“I am looking for an Alpha.” he muttered to himself as he filled out the short form. “I prefer male but am not too picky. I like woodsy scents and hoodies big enough to drown in. I am in New York, yes I have a PO Box to receive items at for discretion reasons, I get my heats once every four weeks and…” </p><p>Here the Omega hesitated, reading the question another time before finally typing slow, “...yes, I would be willing to trade with an Alpha but only after I know I like their scent.” </p><p><em>Bling! Welcome Webs_854!</em> *</p><p>There was no turning back now-- or rather, there was, and it was literally as easy as simply closing the browser-- but Peter told himself there <em>wasn’t </em>as he immediately clicked on the list of Alphas the site had pulled up based on his profile information. </p><p>There was no reason for him to be embarrassed, right? People did a lot weirder things on line, they did a lot weirder things to get through heat and rut and since an actual Alpha wasn’t feasible right now and Peter couldn’t ask his friends for help without having to deal with a bunch of questions, this site seemed to be the easiest, least creepy way to give himself some relief. </p><p>It was fine. </p><p>It was going to be <em>fine</em>. </p><p>“Alpha number one.” Peter huddled into his blankets and pillows and clicked on the first profile. “Come on down.” </p><p>********</p><p>Peter really didn’t consider himself a picky Omega, but as he discarded yet another Alphas profile because the scent markers didn’t seem quite right he started thinking maybe he wasn’t picky, maybe he was just<em> high maintenance. </em></p><p>There was nothing wrong with rose and pinewood scent, nothing wrong with sweet plums and cold ice, nothing wrong with copper and lilac. Alphas who wore size large hoodies were probably plenty big enough, honestly anyone on the East Coast would be nice just for the faster shipping times  and there was no real reason why Peter looked at and moved on from over two hundred different Alphas in the list. </p><p>He worked his way all the way through the ‘best matches’ column, through the ‘most clicked on’ page, through the ‘closest to you in proximity’ selection and still the Omega couldn’t find any profile that so much as caught his eye. Peter was damn near ready to give up, ready to hide his head in the pillows and just scream through the rest of his heat because this had been a terrible idea, this had been a terrible idea, what the hell was he thinking trying to find an Alpha on line to scent this was so goddamn <em>pathetic</em>--</p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>-- Male Alpha</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>-- Scent Markers: Red Cedar and Dark Licorice </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>-- Clothing Size: XL</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>-- Location: New York</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>-- Top Likes: Mexican Food and Golden Girls</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>-- Screen Name: DP (yeah, it means what you think) </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>“Cedar and licorice.” Peter blinked a few times at the profile page, something warm twisting through his center as he thought about a big Alpha he could share tacos with while stealing oversized hoodies and binge watching old shows. </p><p>“Not too sure what DP means--” lies, he <em>totally </em>knew what it meant and this far into heat, Peter’s entire body jolted hungrily over the thought of being <em>DP’d</em>. “--but cedar and licorice. Okay. I-- I could do that.” </p><p>The website made it so easy to message, just a quick click and a box popped up so Peter could hastily type in a request for a hoodie that smelled like <em>Alpha</em>. A shipping form that pre filled with his already submitted mailing address-- thank goodness for incognito PO Boxes-- and less than five minutes after finding the profile, the request was sent and gone and now all Peter had to do was sit and wait to see if the Alpha was willing to help him. </p><p>So the Omega sat and waited, waited and sat, sat and waited and waited and <em>waited</em>--</p><p>--and had no way of knowing that about sixteen blocks south and eighteen floors up in his own apartment building, the Alpha Wade Wilson was staring at his phone in utter shock. </p><p>“What the fuck, someone picked my scent?”</p><p>It had been a ridiculously bad day when Wade had signed up for that stupid site. There had been a job gone wrong, an attempt at some <em>purchased </em>human contact that ended with the words ‘you couldn’t pay me enough’, a walk back to his empty apartment where the Alpha had sat and looked at his gun and tried to remember just how long he’d been <em>gone </em>last time around and maybe this time he could do something to stay <em>gone </em>longer….? </p><p>It had been a bad day, but Wade had honestly been working on not just noping out a heartbeat whenever life really got him down so instead of doing the noping thing he had done the internet thing which in some aspects felt like just as much of a failure, especially since he hadn’t been clicked on <em>once </em>on any of the dozens of dating-matchmaking-scent finding-help I’m horny- websites.</p><p>Not <em>once </em>had someone clicked on his profile and sent him a wink or a nudge or a poke or whatever the hell it was these days. No Omegas had sent him a private message, no Alphas had hit him up for a no-strings attached good time, and after months of making sure all the notification settings were turned to on and he had his ringer up loud just in case, Wade had given up. </p><p>Other than a call about a job last week, the Alpha hadn’t even picked his phone up in days but he sure it picked it up <em>now </em>because there was a notification from one of those platonic heat sites and the little blinking icon had his heart all caught up in his throat. </p><p>
  <em>Someone likes my scent? </em>
</p><p>It was a little pathetic maybe, the way Wade gripped the phone hard enough to crack the screen as he read the politely worded message once, twice and then a third time just to be sure.</p><p><b>From Webs_854</b>: I think your scent sounds amazing, and an XL hoodie would be at least three sizes too big on me which would be perfect. Would you please send me a hoodie you’ve worn for a few days? </p><p>“Fuck.” Wade scrubbed a hand over his mouth and read the message just one more time. “<em>Fuck</em>.” </p><p>First things first if he was really going to do this-- a shower had to happen <em>immediately</em>. Wade was definitely a hopelessly doomed bachelor who rarely attempted to pretty himself up anyway, but since showers made his already terrible skin hurt worse, he tended to avoid them as much as possible which of course made for... rather <em>ripe </em>days. </p><p>It wasn’t that Wade particularly liked being dirt, it was just that showers <em>sucked</em>. Hot water made him itch and cold water stung against the more sensitive patches. Drying off meant towels catching on rough edges and sometimes the cotton didn’t make him break out, sometimes it gave him a rash, he just never really knew. </p><p>And on the hardest days, on the days when Wade always looked over at his gun, <em>those </em>days the thought of showering was somehow impossible, standing under the water was <em>impossible </em>so he just didn’t do it if he didn’t have to.</p><p>But the Alpha did it now. </p><p>Wade took a long shower this time, ignored how the hot water lit up his skin and used a carefully neutral wash so nothing would affect his natural scent. He toweled off extra well so there was no damp patches that would dry awkwardly in the clothes and then picked his biggest hoodie from his closet and yanked it on over his head. </p><p>A glimpse in the mirror and he looked ridiculous, the Alpha looked full on <em>ridiculous </em>wearing a hoodie and only a towel around his waist, all the scars and damage on his skin showing harsh under the bedroom lights. </p><p>He looked ridiculous and for a minute Wade’s chest constricted, his throat closed up and he started to pull the hoodie right back off and throw it in the bottom of his closet. </p><p><em>Fuck </em>there was a reason this was the first time anyone had ever clicked on his profile and <em>fuck </em>if the Omega knew what Wade actually looked like the pretty thing would run screaming the other way and <em>fuck </em>Deadpool ‘the Merc with a Mouth’ was not someone who should be doing cute things like sending little Omegas his oversized hoodie and hoping he gets a request for something else. </p><p>But beyond looking ridiculous and beyond feeling ridiculous and beyond all the negative that ran round in the Alpha’s head and screamed in his subconscious every time he looked in a mirror--</p><p>--beyond all that, Wade was lonely. The Alpha was lon<em>e</em>ly and somewhere out there was an Omega who was lonely too and who thought he scented good and that was something Wade had never thought would happen after his mutation, after losing Vanessa, after the world had turned bloody and sharp and loud. </p><p>So Wade pushed all the bad thoughts away and kept his phone open to the message so he could read it every few minutes over the next few days. He wore the hoodie for everything except sleeping, went out and bought scent neutral deodorant so he didn’t stink but also didn’t cover up the cedar and licorice the Omega somehow thought sounded <em>amazing</em>. </p><p>And when forty eight hours was up, Wade vacuum sealed the hoodie like the website instructed and mailed it out to the generic PO Box address the Omega had provided. He sent out a quick message with a tracking number and expected delivery date and then put his phone down and forced himself to concentrate on something else so he wouldn’t sit and wait and wait and <em>wait </em>for a reply that most likely wasn’t going to come. </p><p>But a reply did come. </p><p>First there was a perfunctory, “Thank you, I’ll check my mail soon” message complete with a smiley face that had no business making the Alpha quite so happy. </p><p>But then miraculously enough, two days later was <em>another </em>message from the Omega: </p><p><b>From Webs_854</b>:<em> I got the package this morning. It feels weird to say thank you for sending me clothes to help through my heat, but seriously thank you. </em></p><p><b>From DP (yeah, it means exactly what you think)</b>: Sure. </p><p><b>From DP (yeah, it means exactly what you think):</b> <em>I guess let me know if you like it? </em></p><p><b>From Webs_854</b>: <em>I will! </em></p><p><b>From DP (yeah, it means exactly what you think)</b>: <strike>If it's not fuckin’ weird maybe you could send me something so I know what you smell like?</strike></p><p>Wade deleted the message before sending it, and went back to packing for his next job. </p><p>It was crazy enough that an Omega had liked the idea of <em>Wade </em>enough to reach out and request something. Crazier still that the Omega bothered to take the time to say thank you. </p><p>Now it was just a waiting game. Would the Omega message to tell Wade whether or not it helped? Would he request something else? Would he hate it and never click on Wade’s profile again? </p><p>It was a waiting game filled with questions Wade couldn’t possibly answer, so he shoved his <em>lonely </em>right down into the bag with an extra box of ammo and headed out the door to kill somebody. </p><p>Maybe getting some blood on his hands would calm the crazy, quiet the negative voices, soothe the wild that ran under the Alpha’s skin every time he thought about an Omega who maybe maybe for the first time ever could sort of possibly want him.</p><p><em>Maybe</em>. </p><p>********</p><p>Peter’s next heat came right on schedule, almost thirty days exactly after the last one had ended. Patrol had been a little wild tonight so the Omega was already running hot, already jittery and <em>anxious </em>as he crawled in the apartment window and thumped onto the floor, the first of many heat cramps twisting at his insides. </p><p>The box from the Alpha <em>DP (yeah, it means exactly what you think)</em> was still sitting under his bed because Peter hadn’t been able to bring himself to open it beforehand. He’d blushed probably <em>lethally </em>red when he’d gotten the package from the Post Office, and kept blushing all the way home even though there was no possible way for anyone on the subway to know the innocuous flat rate box held something from a strange Alpha Peter had solicited online for some heat assistance. </p><p>The Omega had promptly shoved the package away under his bed and pretended to ignore it for the next three weeks but tonight-- or rather, this <em>morning </em>since that was definitely the sun coming up behind the building in the distance-- this morning, Peter stripped out of his Spider-man gear, gave himself a cursory wipe down and then stretched out on heat specific-waterproof sheets to tear into the box. </p><p>The hoodie was <em>huge</em>, XL and then some and Peter’s eyes lit with excitement when he unfolded the clothing and held it up to the light. It was the perfect size to swath him completely in Alpha scent, big enough to fall to his thighs, long enough to cover his hands and wide enough that he could wrap his arms around his midsection and curl up tight and still have room. </p><p>And the scent-- oh God the <em>scent</em>. </p><p>Peter’s head snapped back when he got a full breath of cedar and licorice, his mouth falling open in a wordless pant and his dark eyes flushing full gold as the Alpha scent wound through his nose and lungs and down into his core. </p><p>
  <em>So good. </em>
</p><p>The Omega didn’t bother trying to quiet a needy whimper as he shoved himself into the sweatshirt, didn’t bother muffling a gratified moan when the material pillowed around him in waves and he could pull the hood up over his hair and ears, tighten it around his face so he could open mouth inhale pure, heady <em>Alpha</em>. </p><p>
  <em>Sooooo good. </em>
</p><p>Heat was so much easier this time around, so much less <em>everything </em>when Peter could shroud his always-dialed-to-eleven senses in the warmth and shadows of the big hoodie. He spent the few days naked from the waist down and bunching the Alpha’s shirt up between his fingers as he worked an extra large, extra heavy duty vibrator between his legs and clenched down <em>writhing </em>on a pseudo knot that felt so much better now that he was wrapped up in cedar and licorice. Even finishing was easier, the orgasms coming quick and leaving the Omega sated instead of empty and shivering, the after glow lasting longer and the cramps easing sooner than they ever had before. </p><p>It was beautiful, it was perfect, it was Peter finally feeling held and safe just because of something as simple as the right Alpha’s scent and when his heat broke and Peter could finally breathe without his core twinging with need, he scrambled for his phone and pushed the hoodie sleeves up only far enough to tap out a quick message: </p><p><b>From Webs_854:</b> <em>Your hoodie made my heart so much easier. You smell so good. So good Alpha, oh my god. </em></p><p><b>From DP (yeah, it means exactly what you think):</b> <em>Oh holy shit, Omega. </em></p><p><b>From DP (yeah, it means exactly what you think): </b><em>Really</em>? </p><p><b>From Webs_854: </b> <em>So good. I haven’t taken it off yet, I don’t think I ever want to. You scent incredible. This is the best heat I’ve had in a really long time. </em></p><p><b>From DP (yea, it means exactly what you think)</b>:<em> That makes me real happy, Omega. Thank you</em></p><p><b>From Webs_854</b>: <em>No. Thank YOU. </em></p><p><b>From Webs_854</b>:<em> If I send it back in next week, will you wear it again and send it back for me? </em></p><p><b>From Webs_845</b>:<em> And maybe I could you send you something of mine? If you want?</em></p><p><b>From DP (yeah, it means exactly what you think):</b> <em>Are you serious?</em></p><p><b>From Webs_854:</b> <em>If that’s not too weird. I sort of feel like I’d love if you had something of mine to scent while I have something of yours. </em></p><p><b>From DP (yeah, it means exactly what you think)</b>:<em> Jesus Christ Omega, PLEASE send me something. Anything. I’d take a damn sock. A bowtie. Seriously.</em></p><p><b>From Webs_854</b>: <em>Do you want to know my scent markers</em></p><p><b>From DP (yeah, it means exactly what you think):</b> <em>Fuckin’ honest? I don’t even care. </em></p><p><b>From DP (yeah, it means exactly what you think):</b> <em>Shit, I shouldn’t have said that. I mean, I’m sure you smell damn delicious. </em></p><p><b>From DP (yeah, it means exactly what you think): </b> <em>Nope, that was weird. I mean all Omegas smell good and I’m sure you smell really good cos you liked my scent which means we at least match a little right? </em></p><p><b>From DP (yeah, it means exactly what you think)</b>: <em>Right</em>?</p><p><b>From DP (yeah, it means exactly what you think)</b>: <em>I'm freaking you out, aren’t I? I tend to word vomit when I’m nervous. Just like, adjective and noun barf everywhere. It’s a mess. I’m a mess. And also apparently real fuckin’ awkward over DM’s. </em></p><p><b>From DP (yeah, it means exactly what you think):</b> <em>I’m gonna stop talking now.</em></p><p><b>From Webs_854:</b> <em>You are ridiculous. I sort of love it. I tend to word vomit when I’m nervous too, so that’s okay.</em></p><p><b>From Webs_854:</b> <em>My scent notes are lavender and honeysuckle. Does that sound like something you’d like?</em></p><p>Wade swallowed hard when the last message came over the phone, closed his eyes and thought about wrapping up in something that scented like sleepy lavender and sugary honeysuckle, thought about falling asleep with the scent in his nose and waking up to a new day without feeling quite so lonely. </p><p>Fuck, he couldn’t even <em>imagine</em>. </p><p><b>From DP (yeah, it means exactly what you think):</b> <em>Sounds like heaven. </em></p><p>It sounded like heaven and a week later when the Alpha got a package in the mail and tore it open, it sure <em>felt </em>like heaven when he unfolded the softest, fluffiest blanket he’d ever seen and shoved it over his face to breathe in the drugging, hypnotic scent of sweet Omega. </p><p>The blanket was dark red like Wade’s suit was dark red, it had sleeves because it was a snuggie which was immediately both the funniest thing Wade had ever seen and then the <em>best </em>thing Wade had ever seen because now he could lay in bed and put the sleeves on, smooth the rest of the blanket over his body and it almost <em>almost </em>felt like he was cuddling an Omega right up over his heart. </p><p><b>From DP (yeah, it means exactly what you think): </b> <em>Ho ho holy fuck you smell good, Omega. </em></p><p><b>From Webs_854</b>: <em>Yeah</em>?</p><p><b>From DP (yeah, it means exactly what you think): </b> <em>So good. I could get drunk on this shit. Straight up coked out of my mind on it. Wow. </em></p><p><b>From Webs_854: </b> <em>I don’t know the idea of an Alpha getting coked out on my scent makes me happy, but in a super weird way, it definitely does. </em></p><p><b>From DP (yeah, it means exactly what you think):</b> <em>Maybe coked out wasn’t the best description. All I’m saying is that you smell like what I bet the Garden of Eden smelled like. If I was Adam, I never would have let Eve’s sketchy ass tempt me away from anything that smelled this good. </em></p><p><b>From Webs_854</b>: <em>*crying laughing emoji* WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU SAYING RIGHT NOW?!</em></p><p>Wade put his phone down and settled heavier into his bed, let the blanket rest over bare skin covering him from chin to toes and clear down to his fingers. </p><p>The Alpha’s heart was pounding, eyes ringed in red as he stared up at the ceiling and tried to picture the sheer <em>perfection </em>that would be the Omega whose scent was sending him careening head over heels towards fucking loopy.</p><p>All this time alone and all the sudden Wade had found an Omega that scented like heaven and like the Garden of Eden and all things amazing. <em>Heaven </em>and it all added up to scent like <em>mate </em>and now the Alpha was reeling, barely able to breathe past the clench in his chest, digging his fingers into the blanket to keep it at his nose as he breathed in and in and <em>in</em>. </p><p>Imprinting <em>mate </em>on an unknown Omega sounded exactly like the kind of set-up-for-heartbreak bullshit Wade had been handed every goddamn day of his goddamn life but that didn’t stop the Alpha was closing his eyes and letting himself <em>wonder</em>. </p><p><b>From Webs_854:</b> <em>My name’s Peter, by the way. Since we’re trading clothes and your hoodie stayed with me during heat, I feel like maybe we could be on first name basis? You got a name, Alpha? Or should I keep calling you your vaguely inappropriate screen user ID?</em></p><p>
  <em>Peter. </em>
</p><p>Wade couldn’t get himself to let go of the blanket long enough to message back, so he just kept holding on tight, mouthing the name to himself over and over. </p><p>
  <em>Peter. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Mate. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>********</em>
</p><p>
  <em> <b>Chapter Notes: </b> </em>
</p><p>
  <em>854 (from Peter’s screen name) is the number of issues of The Amazing Spider-man, which is of course the franchise that Andrew Garfield was part of. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>The mental image of Spidey-strength Peter literally breaking a dildo holding onto it too tight mid-heat and then panicking about his inside muscles getting  “clenchy” when an Alpha was with him actually made me laugh out loud. I feel like in another universe, Wade would learn that little fact about Peter and immediately be like “well I’ve got a super penis, so lets see what them butt muscles do”.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Please tell me I don’t have to explain the DP double entendre to anyone. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>When this fic was first commissioned, the reader said “I don’t blame you if you’re sick of writing ABO Spideypool” and I said “I will never get tired of it, honestly how dare you” and here I am again writing ABO spideypool because I will NEVER GET TIRED OF IT. I love them! </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>*warning*<br/>There are just some spectacularly terrible jokes in this chapter.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><b>From Webs_854</b>: <em>You never told me what your screen name means. </em></p><p><b>From DP (yeah, it means exactly what you think)</b>: <em>Pete, you know damn well what it means, and if you don’t, you’re about fifty shades of way too innocent to be hanging out on a website like this. </em></p><p>Peter grinned when he read the message from ‘DP’. Yeah alright, he <em>did </em>know exactly what the screen name meant but it still would have been funny to get a straight answer from the Alpha. Funnier still if DP didn’t <em>actually </em>mean what all the nekkid websites made it mean and was legit something like the Alpha’s initials. It could be the Alpha’s <em>initials </em>and here Peter was thinking dirty thoughts about getting DP’d by someone who scented like cedar and licorice and needed size XL clothes. </p><p>...okay not <em>dirty </em>thoughts. But there were certainly <em>thoughts</em>. Certainly <em>thoughts </em>swirling round in the Omega’s head as he headed out onto patrol, and <em>thoughts </em>as he perched up on a roof and ate his dinner alone, and <em>thoughts </em>when he finally made it back to bed for a few hours of sleep before it was time for school. </p><p>Yep. <em>Thoughts</em>.</p><p><b>From Webs_854</b>:<em> When are you sending my hoodie back? </em></p><p>
  <b>From DP (yeah, it means exactly what you think): </b>
  <em>Homeboy, that is MY hoodie. Mine. I’m just letting you use it.</em>
</p><p><b>From Webs_845:</b> <em>Yeah, that’s right. I totally forgot. Why don’t you go ahead and send MY snuggie back then?</em></p><p>
  <b>From DP (yeah, it means exactly what you think): </b>
  <em>The hell I will. Fingers Keepers</em>
</p><p>Wade would die before admitting to anyone that the thought of giving up the hoodie even long enough for Peter to wear it again and get it all sugar sweet scented about made him want to <em>die</em>. </p><p>The blanket was like wearing a hug, an Omega scented, first thing close to a present Wade had gotten in years, super soft and favorite colored <em>hug</em>. The only time the Alpha didn’t wear the blanket was when he went out for a job. Blood and gore was for his suit, not for his snuggie and he even suffered through showers before putting it on again so he wouldn’t soil it. </p><p>It barely smelled like Peter anymore, after a solid month the blanket only slightly scented like lavender and Wade only got a whiff of honeysuckle if he shoved his face into the blanket and just about suffocated but <em>oh </em>it was worth it. </p><p>
  <em>Worth it. </em>
</p><p>He still couldn’t bring himself to tell Peter his name, couldn’t bring himself to ask if they could just <em>text </em>instead of messaging over the website. If there was one thing Wade had learned over the years it was that just because <em>he </em>wanted something rarely meant someone else did. That the Alpha couldn’t trust the <strike>soul deep need</strike> instinct to reach out for companionship, because people saw his damage first and his job second and rarely stuck around to learn anything about him. The he was better off keeping his distance to avoid the inevitable awkwardness that came along with everything <em>he </em>was. </p><p>So no, even though Wade loved the feel of Peter’s name on his tongue, and even though that damnable scent made his heart pound and his cock throb, even though every ding and chime from the phone and unsubtly snarky comment from the Omega made him smile and his eyes signal red <em>mate</em>--</p><p>-- no. Some distance was better, whether Wade was lonely or not.</p><p><b>From Webs_854:</b> <em>My heat is next week. </em></p><p><b>From DP (yeah, it means exactly what you think)</b>: <em>Hoodie will be there.</em> </p><p>One night in between wrapping up baddie and dodging traffic to rescue the scrappiest most bitey kitten he had ever seen, Peter took the time to package up a worn pair of pajama pants and send them off to DP. Of course they were his <em>most </em>ridiculous pajama pants-- some Hello Kitty bullshit he’d stolen from MJ a few years ago-- and they were definitely at least six inches too short on the Alpha since the profile said he was over six feet tall and the jammies were already two inches too short on Peter’s decidedly <em>under </em>six foot frame. </p><p>They were <em>ridiculous</em>, but Peter had worn them for a solid week and after DP had been so adamant about loving his scent, after the Alpha had messaged at some god awful time in the morning with a quick note to ‘<em>don’t respond cos this is fucking embarrassing, but I’ve been dreaming about you</em>’, after Peter had thought long and hard-- not a sex joke-- about how much DP’s scent helped him, he decided to send the pants so DP would have something <em>else </em>that scented like him since the Omega was sure the Snuggie had long since lost its smell. </p><p>And if it was maybe <em>interesting </em>to think about DP wearing the same pants Peter wore too… well that was neither here nor there. </p><p>Also neither here nor there was just how much the idea of a big hulking Alpha wearing two-or-three sizes too small Hello Kitty pajama pants made Peter laugh. </p><p><b>From Webs_854</b>: <em>You sent me two things in this box?</em></p><p><b>From DP (yeah, it means exactly what you think)</b>: <em>I figured you could wear the hoodie this heat and then maybe you’d open the other one after the hoodie doesn’t stink like me anymore. You can send it back but still have something else to open and wear. If that helps. </em></p><p><b>From Webs_854</b>: <em>You don’t stink and yes, this will help. I love your scent. Thank you. </em></p><p><b>From DP (yeah, it means exactly what you think):</b> <em>Hey real quick question. Just opened your box and what in the absolute fuck are these pants?</em></p><p><b>From Webs_854</b>: <em>DO YOU LOVE THEM?! Send me a picture in them, just like… how far above your ankles they are. </em></p><p><b>From DP (yeah, it means exactly what you think):</b> <em>Absolutely not. </em></p><p><b>From DP (yeah, it means exactly what you think)</b>: <em>Okay fine, hold on. </em></p><p>The picture was hysterically funny and Peter sorely regretted opening the message while balancing precariously on a flag pole. </p><p>He damn near slipped and plummeted to a splatty death as he full on cackled over the shot of big feet and bare ankles and nearly halfway up a well muscled calf-- <em>holla</em>-- was the first hint of brightly printed jammy pants. </p><p><b>From Webs_854</b>: <em>They fit you perfectly. Cropped pants are totally in this year. You could be on the runway in Milan</em></p><p><b>From DP (yeah, it means exactly what you think):</b> <em>You aren’t half as funny as you think you are. And if these things didn’t scent so fucking good I’d feed them to the rabid pigeons outside my window. </em></p><p><b>From Webs_854</b>:<em> RABID PIGEONS? OH MY GOD</em></p><p><b>From DO (yeah, it means exactly what you think):</b> <em>also, I notice the booty is stretched out a little. You got some junk in the trunk there, baby boy? </em></p><p>
  <b>From Webs_854:</b>
  <em> Wouldn’t you like to know</em>
</p><p>
  <strike>
    <b>From DP (yeah, it means exactly what you think):</b>
    <em> Fuck, you got no idea. </em>
  </strike>
</p><p>***********</p><p><b>From Webs_854:</b> <em>I’m tired of talking over this site. Text me. Here’s my number. </em></p><p>It took Wade a solid eighteen tries to formulate a halfway to reasonable sounding text message. </p><p>‘Hi’ was too short. ‘Hello’ sounded weird. ‘Good day to you Omega, it’s the Alpha who is currently wearing your discarded pajama pants’’ was possibly the stupidest sentence anyone had ever typed ever. </p><p>Wade didn’t have normal conversations. Most of his interactions with other humans-- see, there he went sounding weird again-- most of his interactions with other <em>people </em>stayed along the lines of ‘here’s money, kill someone’ and ‘here’s money, give me alcohol’ and then the occasion, but not since Peter, request of ‘here’s money, just fucking touch me’. </p><p>The Alpha didn’t have normal conversations, and starting one with a perky, no doubt perfect Omega who was maybe wearing Wade’s hoodie right that instant was the sort of pressure he could not handle. </p><p><strike><b>From DP</b>: <em>How was your heat? </em> </strike>Nope. </p><p><strike><b>From DP</b>: <em>How many cheese balls can you fit into your mouth at one time? </em></strike>Absolutely not. </p><p>This should <em>not </em>be so difficult, Wade was a grown ass Alpha who could-- and had on many occasions-- cracked a terrible joke and then cracked a baddie’s skull so why was texting somehow the scariest thing in the world? </p><p><b>From DP</b>: <em>What kind of bees make milk</em></p><p>
  <b>From Peter: </b>
  <em>Boo-bees. Terrible joke. 1/10 stars. Try again. </em>
</p><p>Wade stared at his phone for a full minute, not sure if he was more surprised that Peter had responded so quickly, or that the Omega hadn’t been weirded out by a admittedly corny dirty joke opening. </p><p>
  <em>Oh my god, are we soulmates? </em>
</p><p><b>From DP:</b> <em>What’s the difference between hungry and horny?</em></p><p><b>From Peter</b>:<em> Where I stick the cucumber. </em></p><p><b>From DP</b>:<em> Ho ho holy shit, we’re soulmates. </em></p><p><b>From Peter</b>:<em> It’s nice to talk to you like this instead of over the site. Even if your opening was some truly awful jokes. </em></p><p><b>From DP</b>: <em>You can do better?</em></p><p><b>From Peter:</b> <em>What’s worse than waking up at a party with a dick drawn on your face? </em></p><p><b>From DP</b>: <em>Finding out it was traced. Ba dum tsss.</em> </p><p><b>From Peter</b>: <em>We ARE soulmates. </em></p><p>It was an honest to god miracle that their very first off-site conversation opened with a dirty joke and ended with Peter glued to his phone for the next several hours while he and DP traded one liners and corny riddles and their favorite scenes from all the worst movies. </p><p>Peter spend the day tucked up into DP’s sweater with the blanket the Alpha had sent before his last heat wrapped around his feet, phone ringer set to loud so he didn’t have to wait a single second to read a new message. </p><p>It felt so good to just <em>laugh</em>, to know the person on the other end was laughing over the same awkward stuff, to know the Alpha was most likely wearing something of Peter’s or at least thinking about his scent while they talked. Peter had never really dated before the spider bite and post bite dating just wasn’t an option, so it was a wholly novel experience to be looking forward to a text, to be blushing over joking innuendos that sorta kinda slid sweet, to be smiling so much because someone else was purposefully trying to make him happy. </p><p>And then there was the fact that DP was texting from a number with the same area code as Peter’s phone. The website had only said the Alpha was in New York, not that he was in Queens, not that he was in the same side of Queen as Peter, not that he was close enough to have the same area code. That meant he was close enough that Peter might have seen him on the street, hell Spidey might have rescued the Alpha at some point and Peter spend far too much time searching his memory wondering if he had ever scented anything half as incredible as the way the hoodie scented before in his life. </p><p>The answer was always no, <em>no </em>he had only ever scented DP right now and as Peter’s eyes swirled gold yet again with overwhelming affection over DP’s texted bullshit, he knew he’d never scent anything half as incredible as cedar and licorice ever again. </p><p>They were so close if they shared an area code, and still so damn far away because Peter was Spider-man and that meant he’d never know the Alpha by anything other than scent. </p><p><em>Lonely</em>. </p><p><b>From DP</b>: <em>My name is Wade</em>. </p><p><b>From Peter</b>:<em> I can see why you didn’t want to tell, that’s a weird ass name. </em></p><p><b>From Wade</b>: <em>Fuck off</em></p><p><b>From Peter</b>:<em> I’d much rather call you ‘Alpha’</em></p><p><b>From Wade</b>:<em> Oh fuck, come back. </em></p><p><b>From Peter</b>:<em> I’m not going anywhere.</em></p><p>The next package from Wade came with the same hoodie as always, scenting strongly of <em>Alpha </em>and Peter knew he was only imagining that it was still warm from Wade’s body, but it was nice anyway. Alongside the hoodie was an oversized white t-shirt that read ‘I Heart Spidey’, one of those tacky souvenir shop purchases that had stayed popular despite J Jonah Jamison’s insistence on being an out spoken, hero-hating twat waffle and only publishing negative Spidey things in the Bugle. </p><p>The shirt was outrageously big, Peter had to think it was big even on an Alpha Wade’s size and on his less bulky frame the t-shirt hung clear down to his knees and slipped off a shoulder no matter what he did. </p><p>After several minutes of trying to keep the fabric from just falling right off, the Omega finally tied the sleeves of Wade’s hoodie around his waist and wore the entire ensemble like a dress with a belt and sure it was probably the least sexy look in the entire world but <em>damn </em>if Peter didn’t love it anyway. </p><p>Plus it felt nice to know Wade was maybe pro-Spidey. Peter didn’t like to dwell too long on the constant negativity towards his rather webby alter ego, he didn’t let himself read the Bugle or any of the blogs and digital articles, he never checked the comments on Spidey-specific Facebook posts… he just couldn’t handle it. Being a hero was difficult enough without hearing about all the hate out there too. Harry hated Spider-man, Gwen thought he had some sort of personal, unsubstantiated bias against Oscorp, Mary Jane believed vigilantes would be better off unmasking and just being police officers and Aunt May--</p><p>--well, Peter didn’t talk to Aunt May about crime or vigilantes or police work because it made them think of Ben and even after several years that was a hurt that just hadn’t quite gone away. </p><p>So having the Alpha at least own something pro-Spidey was sort of nice and Peter was smiling as he shoved a plate of leftovers into the microwave and texted: </p><p><b>From Peter</b>:<em> You heart Spidey, huh? You like his scent too? </em></p><p><b>From Wade</b>: <em>Baby boy, I dunno how to say this without sounding fucking creepy so I’m just going to say it anyway and let you judge the creep factor: Not even Wonder Woman’s arm pit would scent as good as you do, so don’t ever worry about me smellin’ on anyone else, okay? </em></p><p><b>From Peter</b>: <em>Creep factor, 7/10 weirdo awards, honestly what the fuck</em> </p><p><b>From Wade</b>: <em>But yeah, I heart Spidey. Not only does he do that spandex power squat that is good for ALL things, but the kids a hero right? It’s a lot easier than people think to set out to do the right thing and end up waaaaay on the other side of the line. Being a hero means seeing the worst there is out there and STILL deciding everyone is worth saving and real talk, I gave up on that shit ages ago. Some people deserve to be unalived or at the very least bitch slapped but Spidey would turn them over to the authorities no matter what and that takes some real character. Real morals. Full on honest being good to your damn soul. </em></p><p><b>From Wade</b>: <em>He doesn’t deserve half the shit anyone says about him. </em></p><p><b>From Wade</b>: <em>And also. SPANDEX. </em></p><p><b>From Peter</b>: <em>The webs are weird though, right? </em></p><p><b>From Wade</b>: <em>Built in bondage activities for the right partner. </em></p><p><b>From Peter</b>: <em>And the super strength? </em></p><p><b>From Wade</b>: <em>Pretty sure being able to lift a whole ass car counts as foreplay.</em> </p><p><b>From Peter:</b> <em>Wall crawling and sticky fingers? </em></p><p><b>From Wade</b>: <em>Acrobatic and inventive sex positions, plus we could hands for DAYS with those sticky fingers. Seriously there’s no downside to that guy… except maybe me making things weird right now talking about how I may or may not have a crush on the webslinger? </em></p><p><b>From Peter:</b> <em>Surprisingly not weird. Literally amazing.</em></p><p>Wade didn’t use a whole lot of pain medication. Partly because Alpha biology tended to metabolize everything too quickly for the meds to actually work, partly because being Deadpool and mutated six ways past terrible meant only the strongest top secret military grade tranquilizers helped his various injuries and those were not only outrageously expensive, but usually Wade had healed from whatever was cut to the bone or regenerating or just plain <em>icky </em>before he managed to get his hands on some. </p><p>But when <strike>his Omega the Omega</strike> when <em>Peter </em>texted to complain about his heat cramps being so bad and how there wasn't enough over the counter pain meds to help with it, Wade suited up nice and vicious looking and visited a less than safe part of town to intimidate his favorite bartender into giving him some pills that were a little less tranquilizing than his usual order, but definitely stronger than store grade Tylenol. </p><p>“You don’t have to wear the mask when you come by, you know.” Weasel was an ugly mother fucker with a temperament that matched his moniker, but he’d never been anything but supportive of Wade and the Alpha considered the bartender one of his only friends. </p><p>“I mean, we’ve all see the whole ‘avocado hate fucking an old man’s ball sac’ look that you got going on?” Weasel made a general motion over his face, then motioned to Wade. “So you don’t gotta hide it.” </p><p>“I hate you.” Wade said flatly and the mouthy Beta just shrugged at him. “I need some meds. Nothing big horse tranq size, more like petite pony tranq size.” </p><p>“...uh?” </p><p>“My Omega is basically precious.” Wade said impatiently, and mimed a size with his hands, guessing how tall and heavy Peter was based on how small the pajama pants were. “And the store shit doesn’t work for him, so I need something better.” </p><p>“What should we talk about first?” Weasel dug around under the counter until he found something that could work. “How you just said ‘my Omega’ or how you compared him to a petite pony?” </p><p>“Neither of them, cos it’s none of your fucking business.” Wade took the bottle of medication and tossed a few bills at the Beta. “And keep me off the schedule for the next week. Any jobs that come through pass on to someone else.” </p><p>“Sorry, <em>you’re </em>turning down the chance to brutally murder someone in no doubt gruesome fashion for tens of thousands of dollars?” Weasel’s eyebrows reached far above his glasses. “Has Wade Wilson reformed?” </p><p>“My mate is going into heat.” Wade grunted, and Weasel immediately put his hands up and backed off a step. “Gotta be in town for that.” </p><p>“For sure, man. For sure.” </p><p>Weasel didn’t know that Wade had yet to even see Peter, much less that Alpha and Omega were <em>not </em>spending heat together. He didn’t know that the extent of contact between mates was limited to text messages and wearing/sleeping with each others clothes. It wasn’t the Beta’s business to know that Wade would be mailing the medication out to Peter along with newly purchased heat bags and a weighted blanket he’d slept on for the last week because maybe just <em>maybe </em>the scent and weight would comfort his Omega as the first few days of uncomfortable pre heat set in. </p><p><b>From Peter</b>:<em> I’m falling asleep, Alpha. Wiped out from school and work and heat coming always drains me. Can we talk tomorrow?</em></p><p><b>From Wade</b>: <em>Dummy. We talk every day.</em></p><p><b>From Peter:</b>  <em>Well yeah but like, can we PLAN on talking tomorrow? </em></p><p><b>From Wade</b>: <em>As opposed to planning on avoiding each other? </em></p><p><b>From Peter</b>: <em>You’re the actual literal worst. </em></p><p><b>From Wade</b>: <em>I wish I was there to tuck you in. </em></p><p><em>Oh</em>. Peter’s throat closed up when a bolt of longing skittered up his spine and landed heavy somewhere around his heart. <em>Oh Alpha. </em></p><p>It was the sort of comment that could have been sexy, one that could have been suggestive. ‘I wish I was there….’ but coming from Wade the text was only sweet, almost achingly tender and wholeheartedly wishful. ‘...to tuck you in.’</p><p>Peter wanted to be tucked in so badly, to have someone carry him to bed and make sure he was warm, to have someone curl up around him and hold him tight, to hush him if he had a nightmare and to be there in the morning so he wouldn’t wake up <em>lonely </em>again. </p><p><b>From Peter</b>:<em> I wish you were too. </em></p><p>Wade hit the ‘call’ button before he could stop himself. </p><p>The phone was ringing and the Alpha was immediately regretting the decision but it was too late to back out now. He couldn’t call and then hang up. </p><p>He couldn’t let it ring this many times and then not lose a voicemail. </p><p>He couldn’t pretend it was a butt dial when they’d literally just been texting and he’d never actually called Peter before. </p><p>Oh <em>fuck </em>why wasn’t the Omega picking up, this was such a bad idea, such a bad idea, what had Wade been <em>thinking</em>---</p><p>--*<em>click</em>*</p><p> “...Wade?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>*cue the saxophone music and make it long distance smexy*</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Omega’s voice was soft and sweet and nervous as hell, and Wade’s heart caught all up in his throat as he tried and tried and <em>tried </em>to find real words to say before Peter decided to hang up. </p><p>“I wish I was there so I could hold you and I don’t mean that in a horny way.” he finally blurted out and sure, it wasn’t the smoothest thing Wade had ever said, but it was also better than his usual spur of the moment word vomit that tended to include ‘gee whilikers’ and occasionally, ‘howdily doodily’ because the Alpha was just that fucking stupid. </p><p>“I mean, it could be horny if you wanted it to, but I didn’t mean it like that.” Wade ran a hand over his bare scalp and forced out a short breath. “I just-- <em>hell</em>, Pete. I wanna put you up over my heart and find out if you purr when you’re real happy and I already know how you scent but I want to shove my face in your neck and straight up suffocate. I’ve been lonely my entire damn life but knowing you makes me feel less lonely and the first time I opened that snuggie and got a noseful of you I--” </p><p>
  <em>Shit shit shit stop talking, Peter doesn’t need to know you’re red signaling <b>mate </b>every time you scent him.</em>
</p><p>“Omega, I--” </p><p>
  <em>Seriously stop talking. </em>
</p><p>“I feel less lonely knowing you too.” Peter interrupted, and all the air whooshed right out of Wade, left him light headed and stumbling back into a chair. “And I uh-- I do purr when I’m happy, but it’s been a really long time since that happened.” </p><p>“Holy shit.” the Alpha gulped. “Pete, your voice is <em>awesome</em>.” </p><p>“Yours is too.” Peter laughed a little bit and if Wade wouldn’t have been so damn relieved to just be <em>talking</em>, the noise would have made everything pants-related uncomfortably <em>tight</em>. </p><p>
  <em>Who knew a laugh could be sexy? </em>
</p><p>“I’m sure there’s some sort of psychological explanation for why we’ve both developed voice kinks.” The Omega continued, and Wade nodded like he was full on ready to sit through an entire lecture about that utterly fascinating topic. “It’s probably directly linked to the fact that we met in a technically anonymous fashion and exchanged names that may or may not be true and have no way of verifying that information and in an effort to add validity to our sorta shockingly intense reactions to each other, we’ve both placed some insane amount of importance on how the other sounds.” </p><p>“Uh.” Wade blinked a few times, and on the other side of the line, the Omega laughed at him again. “You said you were damn near a genius, but what’s with quoting psych books at me? I’d say it’s the least sexy come on ever, but I’m sorta into it.”</p><p>“Not a come on.” Peter yawned, his voice going fuzzy a little bit like he was getting under the blankets. “I’ve got an exam in the morning. End of semester final. I’ve been reading and re-reading the text books so much I could probably quote them in my sleep. Applying the vocabulary to our-- to our--” </p><p>Another yawn, and Wade’s chest did something tight and butterfly-y over the sleepy noise. “--um to our thing is super easy.” </p><p>“You’re tired.” Definitely up there on the list of stupid things Wade had said. Stating the obvious. <em>Excellent</em>. “You should sleep, baby boy.” </p><p>“Actually hearing those words instead of imagining what you sound like saying it…” another pause, another chest tightening sleepy sweet noise. “...love that. Alpha.” </p><p><em>Alpha</em>. </p><p>“Get some sleep Pete.” Wade managed over the urge to growl in outright approval at his little mate. “We can talk again tomorrow or something. After your exam.” </p><p>“...k…” </p><p>“Are you um, are you wearing my hoodie?” </p><p>“Every night.” </p><p>Wade didn’t have to sleep. Being mutated so far meant his healing factor kept him from even being tired, and the phrase ‘you can sleep when you’re dead’ had taken on an entirely new meaning for him since Deadpool really only <em>slept </em>when he was dead and hadn’t quite regenerated yet. </p><p>He didn’t have to sleep which meant when Peter fell asleep almost immediately and snored into the phone, the Alpha sat up and listened to every single inhale and exhale, every breath and every sigh, the rustle of blankets and swish of clothing as Peter tossed and turned through out the night. </p><p>And in the morning the Omega woke up, peeled his phone off his face and asked groggily, “Alpha? Are you still on the phone?” </p><p>“Hey Pete.” For a moment Wade thought about at least trying to sound tired or like he’d only barely woken up, but the words came out as awake and obnoxious as he’d ever been. “What time’s your exam?” </p><p>“Nine thirty.” Peter sounded like he was smiling. “Did you stay on the phone all night and listen to me sleep?” </p><p>“I... feel like there’s no non creepy way to answer that question?”  Wade hedged and Peter chuckled back at him, “There really isn’t.”</p><p>“Should I be sorry for it?” </p><p>“No way.” Peter put the phone on speaker so he could pull the hoodie off and head for the shower. “No, it was really nice to wake up with you still there. It was nice not to wake up lonely.” </p><p>“Oh.” Wade’s eyes dilated red with <em>longing</em>. “Yeah Pete. It was nice not to wake up lonely over here, too.”</p><p>***********</p><p><b>From Peter:</b> <em>HEY. You can’t make fun of my Hello Kitty pajama pants and then send me neon colored plaid ones. </em></p><p><b>From Wade:</b> <em>The hell I can’t. Wear them and like them. </em></p><p>
  <b>From Peter: </b>
  <em>They’re hideous. And HUGE. You are HUGE!</em>
</p><p><b>From Wade</b>:<em> You know damn well you wouldn’t like me so much if I wasn’t beefy. </em></p><p>
  <b>From Peter:</b>
  <em> Ain’t that the truth.</em>
</p><p>The psychology exam was a slam dunk, and so was the advanced chem one later that week. It helped that Peter could use his own experiments on his webbing as a ‘new project’ and write ‘theories’ based on things he already knew to be true, such as tensile strength, speed of projection, and whether or not it dissolved in the rain-- not anymore, by the way. Not since Spidey had dented the hell out of a dumpster after falling thirty feet when his webbing out right disintegrated mid swing. </p><p>English was a pointless subject and biology was notoriously difficult but at least the tech final was easy, so one by one the Omega checked off his exams and made it through finals week just in time to get the new jammies from Wade, to double dose on the medication the Alpha had sent, and then fall into bed for a few days of heat. </p><p>It sucked. </p><p>Heat <em>sucked</em>. </p><p><em>Chime chime chime</em>. There went the never ending group text, the notifications overly loud right now because all of Peter’s senses were on overdrive during heat. And grumpily-- why were they even texting him? He never replied anymore. In fact, Peter couldn’t remember the last time he’d answered a text message that wasn’t Jamison demanding him in for a shift or Wade hitting him up to talk or tease or just be generally Alpha-y <em>dumb, </em>so the constant chime of the group text was just blatantly awful right now. </p><p>And Peter <em>did </em>feel sort of bad about it, sort of hated that even though he’d already pretty much checked out of that particular social circle, he’d gotten even <em>worse </em>about it since finding Wade. </p><p>Meeting an Alpha and even signaling golden <em>mate</em>-- yeah, he hadn’t been able to admit that to himself <em>or </em>to Wade yet, but it was always there in the back of his mind-- didn’t mean he was supposed to abandon the rest of his friends or completely <em>nope </em>out of anything that didn’t revolve around the Alpha. </p><p>In fact, Peter was usually the loudest about disagreeing with people who left their friends behind for a relationship, the ones who disappeared into their right-then partner whole heartedly and then after an inevitable break up wanted to fit right back in as if they hadn’t basically told their friends to<em> fuck off</em>. </p><p>Harry was notoriously bad about it, MJ wasn’t so disappearing-y once they left highschool but every time it had sucked to be left behind while they found a temporary relationship. </p><p>
  <em>But wasn’t Peter he doing the same thing right now with Wade? </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Nah. </em>
</p><p>Truth be told, he’d left his friends behind the day he’d been bit by that spider. That was the day the Omega had started lying to everyone, hiding from everyone, ducking out of what were supposed to be memory making moments and only offering up lame excuses for a reason <em>why</em>. </p><p>The spider bite had been the beginning of underlying resentment between the friend group, the beginning of the questions that were sort of accusations, the beginning of Peter coming to terms with his new, lonely lot in life. </p><p>So sure, it was maybe nice that the group still tried to include him, but it was nicer when the <em>chime </em>of group chat changed to the steady <em>swoosh </em>of Wade’s notification, and Peter managed a hand out from beneath the blanket to pick up his phone. </p><p>Some days he felt a little bad about being one of those Omegas who put an Alpha before his friends but-- but--</p><p><b>From Wade:</b> <em>How you holding up, baby boy? </em></p><p>But even on their best days, even before the bite and Spider-man, Peter’s friends hadn’t made his heart as happy as Wade did with nothing more than a quick sentence.</p><p><b>From Peter</b>: <em>Why did the monkey fall out of the tree? </em></p><p><b>From Wade:</b> <em>??</em> </p><p>
  <b>From Peter: </b>
  <em>Cos it was dead. </em>
</p><p><b>From Wade</b>: <em>Holy shit, you’re not doing good at all, are you? What’s up? Pain meds not helping? I can get you something stronger.</em></p><p><b>From Peter:</b> <em>Lonely</em>. </p><p><b>From Wade</b>: <em>I’m here  </em></p><p>In his own apartment, Wade ran his thumb thoughtfully over the screen, reading and re-reading the last text from his Omega. </p><p>It felt dumb to be texting right now when they spent at least an hour on the phone most days. Wade knew all the ways Peter sighed now, the inflection of the Omega’s voice as he laughed or complained about work, the quiet trill at the end of the words when Peter was nearly purring and texting felt stilted when he’d much rather be <em>talking</em>. </p><p>The Alpha’s life had moved fairly quickly from revolving around work to revolving around a still-unseen <em>mate</em>. </p><p>Wade had memorized Peter’s schedule for next semester so he would know which days were more homework heavy or stressful. He had spent some time shopping for clothes in Peter’s size just to make sure the Omega had enough warm stuff. The New York weather wasn’t terrible yet but with the end of December looming and January being notoriously <em>frigid</em>, Wade was worried about his mate being cold. </p><p>Of course Peter probably wouldn’t be as cold if Wade would give back the snuggies and pajama pants but that wasn’t going to happen any time soon, so new clothes it was. </p><p>The merc had turned down not one but two jobs in the last month because he knew Peter was stressed out, he had spent an inordinate time reading the biographies of the reporters at the Bugle so when the Omega talked about people he worked with, Wade could put a face to the name. </p><p>And most importantly-- <em>most </em>importantly-- the Alpha never went a single night without wrapping up in something that scented like Peter and letting lavender and honeysuckle lure him into resting, never went a single night without calling each other for at least a few minutes even if they’d already talked earlier that day. </p><p>
  <em>So why were they just texting when Peter was lonely and Wade was lonely? </em>
</p><p>“Wade?”</p><p>“Pete.” Wade picked up the phone the second Peter called, hit ‘answer’ before the first ring even finished. “Hey.” </p><p>“Alpha.” The Omega huffed a laugh at him when Wade responded so fast. “Hey.”</p><p>All at once Wade remembered why they <em>didn’t </em>call each other when Peter was anywhere near heat. Yes, they talked every single day but an unspoken rule of not actually talking during heat spike had sort of cropped up, and <em>clearly </em>it was for the best because Pete said <em>Alpha </em>and a snarl immediately broke free from Wade’s chest and rumbled through the line, possessive and <em>hungry</em>. </p><p>
  <em>Not subtle at all.</em>
</p><p>"Wade.” Unbelievably, the Omega whined in quiet <em>submission</em>, and the snarl turned into a full bodied growl with Wade helpless to stop it.</p><p>“Baby boy.” <em>Growly growly growly</em>. “What’s up, you okay?” </p><p>“M’fine.” This close to heat Peter’s voice was a whole <em>other </em>register the Alpha hadn’t memorized, low and almost hoarse, soft and wanting without even trying. If lavender and honeysuckle was enough to make Wade’s heart pound, the sound of his mate in bed and in heat was enough to make him <em>roar</em>. “I’m glad you picked up when I called.” </p><p>“I’ve never let you go to voicemail, Pete.” Wade lay back in his bed and dragged the snuggie up over his chest, over his face so he was covered forehead to toes in his Omega’s scent. “Sure can’t handle how good you sound right now, though.” </p><p>“Right now?” Peter laughed and the Alpha clenched his jaw hard enough to hurt, reached down low and palmed over his cock as it hardened in his pajama pants. “I sound exhausted and half way to pissed off. An Omega near heat isn’t a pleasant thing.” </p><p>“Oh-ho I beg to differ.” Wade bit back a groan as he <em>throbbed </em>in response to Peter’s voice. “I think you sound great.” </p><p>“And I think you’re ridiculous.” </p><p>“Eh, you knew who I was when you called.” The Alpha grit his teeth and forced his hand to still. There were lots of times to jerk off to the idea of Peter in heat, but right now when his mate was lonely and wanted to talk was not it. </p><p>
  <em>Down boy, down. </em>
</p><p>“How uh-- how far along are you?” he asked instead of asking what the Omega was or wasn’t wearing. “Are you heading towards incoherent and drippy and you know… gross?”</p><p>“You’re the only Alpha in the world who describes heat in the most unpleasant terms possible.” Peter complained good naturedly. “Omegas describe it shitty too but <em>we’re </em>the ones going through it. Alphas are supposed to wax poetic and horny about heat.” </p><p>“Omega, you got your wires crossed if you think I’m not poetic and horny about this.” Wade strangled through a laugh and Peter giggled at him in absolute fucking delight. “There’s a <em>reason </em>I don’t usually call during your heat, y’know. It isn’t fair to expect an Alpha to carry on a normal conversation knowing you’re other there drippy and gross.” </p><p>“I don’t think we’ve ever had a normal conversation ever.” the Omega wriggled on his bed a little, tone dipping curiously to ask, “What um-- what are you doing right now, Wade?” </p><p>“Definitely not trying to mummify myself in your snuggie while jerking off to the sound of your voice.” Wade answered immediately, obnoxiously, but also honestly as he shoved the blanket off and gasped at fresh air, then eyed his less-than-behaving dick critically. “Definitely not about to mess in your stupid Hello Kitty jammy pants if you call me Alpha again.” </p><p>“...<em>Alpha</em>.” Breathless and <em>eager </em>and Wade dug his fingers into the bed until the sheets started to tear in his grip, biting off a curse as his cock leaked wet against the jammies.</p><p>“<em>Shit</em>, Pete.” </p><p>“Can we do this?” Fuzzy again on the other end of the line and the Alpha’s mind went all sorts of great places imagining why Peter was changing positions and what the new position would be. “Just to take the edge off before I really drop into it? Can we get off together?” </p><p>“I—“<em> was getting off pre hear from across town from his never actually seen mate a weird thing to do? </em>“—Omega, I’m already halfway there.”</p><p>“Slow down and wait for me then.” Peter whispered, careful and nearly begging, anxious as if Wade would ever tell him <em>no </em>to this, as if any Alpha would ever say <em>no </em>to an Omega asking them to wait so they could finish together. “Wait for me to catch up. Hold on.”</p><p>
  <em>Halfway there.</em>
</p><p>“I’m holding on.” The Alpha promised, and then-- “That wasn’t a dick reference.” and the sound of Peter muffling a laugh on the other side felt like actual sunshine. “Okay I mean, it <em>sort </em>of is a dick reference.” </p><p>“You are so dorky.” Peter fumbled under his pillow for his trust heat vibrator, the one with the good knot and reinforced silicone that had yet to crack under his <em>clenching</em>. “I love it. Never stop.” </p><p>“Told you baby boy--” Peter’s fingers faltered on the vibrator when Wade called him baby boy again.<em> Holy hell did he love that</em>. “--I’m already half way there. Not gonna stop.” </p><p>“Shit.” the Omega exhaled a little shaky, dragged the fat tip of the dildo up along his thighs to collect the slick just beginning to leak from his body. A teasing push at his hole, circling the rim with the thick piece had him tensing a little bit but Peter held his breath and listened to Wade half growling on the other side and relaxed enough to hum in contentment into the phone. “Ready?” </p><p>“Tell me--” The words bit off into a half muted snarl as the Alpha tried to put a sentence together. “Tell me how you’re on the bed right now?” </p><p>“Face down.” Peter’s cheeks flushed scarlet as he rolled over onto his tummy. “I uh-- face down and with your hoodie pulled down over my-- over my--” </p><p>“It’s long enough on you to get down past your hips?” Wade interrupted, rough and <em>hungry </em>and the Omega whined softly before agreeing, “Yeah, it’s-- it’s that long. Long enough to cover. Long enough to-- to get messy.” </p><p>“<em>Fuck</em>.” </p><p>The whimper from Peter’s lips when he angled the vibrator just right and pressed back against it was high pitched and needy, breath panting quick into the speaker as he tried to moan, “The first push--” <em>god</em>, he couldn’t catch his breath. “-- is hard to stretch--” <em>fuckfuckfuck</em>. “--around--” </p><p>The Alpha tasted blood when he bit through his tongue trying and failing to find some self control. “How big?” he asked, eyes closed and palm gripped tight around his cock. “How big is your vibrator, baby boy?” </p><p>“Three fingers--!” Peter cried out as he sank inch after inch along the thick dildo, rolling his hips back and holding the hoodie tight around his face so he was immersed in his Alpha’s scent as he split open along the length. “Th-Three fingers. Is that as big as you, Alpha?” </p><p>Wade flexed his fingers around his cock, ran his thumb around the leaking head and imagined his mate’s slim fingers on him for a soul shivering moment, then shook his head. “Nah, Pete. Not even close. M’bigger than that.”</p><p>“Oh my god.” Peter gasped, panted through a few strangled breaths, and when Wade was quiet-- “Alpha, you with me? Don’t leave me.” </p><p>“I’m here.” The Alpha could barely talk, but he wet his lips and tried anyway, working through a growly, “I’m here Pete. Omega. Right here.” </p><p>“I wish you were closer.” The words trembled and the phone jerked when Peter got the thickest part of the vibrator inside him, when there was only the rounded edge of the silicone knot left to push against his entrance. “I know you’re close, I see the area code when we text--” </p><p>--a throaty groan from the Omega and Wade shuddered as his cock jumped, pre-come spilling white over his fingers and staining the pajama pants dark. His knot was <em>aching </em>trying to pop, the mental image of Peter writhing on a fake knot enough to make the Alpha see scarlet, knowing the Omega was close enough that Peter could be writhing on <em>his </em>knot if they wanted enough to make Wade half feral. </p><p><em>Matematemate</em>. </p><p>“G-Get it in deep, baby boy.” He whispered, thrusting up into his own palm when his Omega gave one of those wordless, breathless little cries that made him see stars. “Pull that hoodie down real low so when you send it back it’s covered in the scent of your heat, okay?” </p><p>“Wade.” Peter rolled over to his stomach and slid the dildo back up inside himself, arching into the stroke and smoothing the hoodie down over his body as best he could in the same motion, hips stuttering when he saw the imprint of his cock stiff beneath the fabric, dots of wet already soaking through the shirt. “<em>Alpha</em>.” </p><p>“Say it again.” The Alpha reached with his other hand to cup his sac, to squeeze at the beginning of his knot. “Pete, again.” </p><p>“Alpha!” Needy and greedy and if Wade listened just hard enough he could hear the squeaking of bed springs as his Omega fucked himself down on a dildo, tried to get off with the sound of Wade’s voice in his ear. “My Alpha, <em>please</em>.” </p><p>“You smell so good.” Wade rasped, grabbed at the Snuggie and breathed in deep till his senses were swimming in lavender and honeysuckle. “Pretty Omega, you smell so good. Scent like mine.” </p><p>...and barely audible over the low moan, barely coherent as the Omega twisted and writhed and <em>clenched</em>…</p><p>“<em>Yours</em>.” </p><p>The sound of Peter finishing made Wade <em>howl</em>, made his eyes snap red and his cock surge spilling into the pajama pants and leaving them sodden, coating his fingers and puddling down in the divot of his hipbone, slipping between his thighs to stain the sheets. </p><p>Peter kept twisting the vibrator in deeper, tried to work the knot <em>further </em>as he came again, crying out nearly screaming as the Alpha snarled rumbling in his hear, nothing discernible but beautiful and adoring and possessive all the same. </p><p>
  <em>Matematemate.</em>
</p><p>“Keep it in you.” Was the first thing Wade managed after his vision stopped spinning and he could breathe again. “I want you plugged up, baby boy. Keep you full.” </p><p>“Mmmm.” The Omega was rocking on the bed, side to side as his body shivered and spun high with sparks of pleasure, one hand firm on his vibrator to keep it tight in his hole, the other brushing just gentle along his cock, over the damp spot on the hoodie. “I-- I wanna be full.” </p><p>He was slurring his words, heat weighting them heavy and heady and <em>lush</em>. “Wanna-- wanna see?” </p><p><em>Oh hell.</em> “You want to send me a pic?” </p><p>Wade scarcely dared even <em>wish</em>, but the picture that came through his phone just a minute later was of thick hair and bright golden eyes, just the edge of a sleepy satisfied smile and flushed cheeks all framed up in his hoodie. </p><p>An actual perfect photo of his mate, way better than anything sexy might have been, more intimate and more trusting because they didn’t even know what each other looked like yet but here Peter was golden eyed and gorgeous...</p><p><em>Perfect</em>. </p><p>“Holy shit Pete.” The Alpha swallowed through a suddenly parched throat. “You’re so beautiful.” </p><p>“Mmm, you’re beautiful too.” Peter murmured, and Wade immediately, almost instinctively objected, “You’ve never even seen me.” </p><p>“Don’t have to see you to know you’re perfect.” </p><p>Heat slid quickly into exhaustion as the Omega’s body clamored for sleep so they would have energy for the upcoming few days, and when he heard Peter start to snore Wade was quick to say, “I won’t hang up, Omega. I’ll be here when you wake up, okay? I’ll be here.” </p><p>“...don’t ever feel lonely when I’m talking to you…”</p><p>***********</p><p><b>From Peter</b>: <em>I was so tempted to call you mid heat but figured that would be unfair to both of us. Pure freaking torture. </em></p><p><b>From Wade</b>: <em>Good choice. ‘Alpha Destroys City Block in Horny Episode’  isn’t a good headline for anyone</em></p><p><b>From Peter:</b> <em>I dunno, I’ve seen the tabloids publish much worse. At least that story would be true unlike most the shit they print. </em></p><p><b>From Wade:</b> <em>What’s up, bitter? What do you have against tabloids? They are pretty pro our favorite spandex clad super hero.</em></p><p>
  <b>From Peter:</b>
  <em> I saw an article today that suggested Spider-man was the bastard child of an Earth woman and an alien from the planet Arachnae. </em>
</p><p><b>From Wade</b>: ….<em> Yeah, I got nothing for that. Absolutely nothing. </em></p><p><b>From Peter</b>: <em>Right? It’s traumatizing on every level. </em></p><p><b>From Peter:</b> <em>But on non spandex related topics, we should meet. </em></p><p><b>From Wade:</b> <em>Wait. What?</em></p><p><b>From Peter:</b> <em>We should meet. Like face to face instead of text message to text message.</em></p><p><b>From Wade:</b> <em>I thought the whole point of meeting people online was to be mysterious and anonymous. If we take the mystery and excitement out of our relationship, I’ll get bored and leave you, I swear I will.</em></p><p><b>From Peter</b>: <em>Doubtful. You’ll see my butt and want to plant a flag and claim it as yours. </em></p><p><b>From Wade:</b> <em>Dick joke?</em></p><p><b>From Peter:</b> <em>Always. Seriously though. Let’s at least talk about it?</em></p><p><b>From Wade</b>: <em>Why though, Pete? What’s wrong with what we have?</em></p><p><b>From Peter</b>:<em> Nothing’s wrong with what we have, but I don’t think I need to list all billion reasons of why we should move this thing face to face, do I?</em></p><p>
  <b>From Peter: </b>
  <em>I mean, my eyes signal gold mate for you, and that’s only based off your scent. Do we need any other reason?</em>
</p><p><b>From Peter:</b> <em>Wade</em>? </p><p>
  <b>From Peter: </b>
  <em>C’mon don’t leave me on read, that isn’t fair at all. </em>
</p><p><b>From Peter:</b> <em>At least call me so we can talk about it. If this is too fast, then okay. I’ll wait. But I don’t think it is, so let’s talk about whatever reason you have for hesitating. You talk, I’ll listen, we’ll work it out.</em> </p><p><b>From Peter:</b> <em>Wade</em>?</p><p>The Alpha’s phone kept chiming, one message, and then another message five or six minutes later, another message and another, a phone call and a voicemail notification before everything went quiet again. </p><p>Wade held his phone tight and just kept right on staring in the mirror in the bathroom. </p><p>He’d been walking through the door post-job when Peter had texted him first, and the Alpha was still bloody and messy, still torn up and rage-red-eyed because he hadn’t had enough time to calm the <em>wild </em>running under his skin yet. This job had gotten to him, had pulled on some of that long buried violence and cold, calculating skill and at one point Wade had dug a bullet of his own heart and then put a half dozen in someone else and y’know, that really <em>fucked </em>with an Alpha. </p><p>This job had <em>gotten </em>to him and Wade looked awful, tensed up and teeth bared as he hissed through one breath after another, skin inflamed and itching after traveling in his suit, eyes fucking <em>frightening </em>because not even Peter’s terrible humour was enough to pull Deadpool all the way back to sane. </p><p>Sometimes he forgot he was a monster, and sometimes when Peter called him <em>Alpha </em>Wade forgot he should have died instead of mutating. </p><p>But he remembered it all now, and the last thing a pretty perfect golden eyed Omega like Peter needed was walking, talking <em>damage </em>in his life. </p><p>
  <em>No. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>No no no. </em>
</p><p><b>From Wade</b>: <em>No</em>.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Brush yo teeth cos this super sweet fluff will give you cavities.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It took about a month for the snuggie to lose all hints of Peter’s scent, lavender and honeysuckle fading away to just the smell of a blanket that had been shoved in a corner of the Alpha’s closet for too long. Wade couldn’t bring himself to throw it away, but he couldn’t <em>look </em>at it either, so into the closet it went right alongside a stack of ammo and several gun cases and a long forgotten journal that held scribbles of the Alpha’s most private dreams. </p><p>Even after several consecutive washes to get all evidence of <em>heat </em>out, it still took a month for Wade’s cedar and licorice scent to erase from the hoodie Peter had jammed into a bag of give-away clothing. He couldn’t bring himself to throw it away but he definitely couldn’t <em>wear </em>it either, so he shoved it in the bag next to the other stuff he really should donate but never remembered to take down to the shelter. </p><p>
  <b>From Peter: </b>
  <em>Why did you say no?</em>
</p><p><b>From Wade:</b> <em>Because you don’t know anything about me.</em></p><p><b>From Peter</b>:<em> I know plenty of things about you, just like you know plenty of things about me. </em></p><p><b>From Wade</b>: <em>You don’t know the important shit. </em></p><p>Peter’s suit and mask were made of high tech moisture wicking material meant to keep him from getting sweaty and disgusting while swinging through the buildings but hey, it worked just fine wicking away tears too. And having to talk around the grief cutting off his air and the sadness weighing on his chest made the Omega’s voice sound raspy and hoarse, deeper than his usual soft pitch, more intimidating when his emotions spilled over into a vocal confrontation with a baddie. </p><p>
  <em>Just because you’re an Alpha doesn’t mean you have the right to hurt people and not give a damn about it!</em>
</p><p>Wade spent all the hours he didn’t have to sleep breaking down and cleaning his arsenal, his mask on and all his <strike>best </strike>worst loudest music cranked up to ear splitting levels because sure, his busted ear drums might heal over and over and over but at least the noise kept drowning out the voices in his head. And if he didn’t hear the voices then he didn’t sit and have to wonder what Peter thought the reason behind him bailing was. Did the Omega think Wade was already mated, already married, maybe just cat-fishing him? </p><p>All of those reasons were better than the real one. </p><p><b>From Peter</b>: <em>I feel like there can’t be anything out there we can’t at least TALK about. I can’t promise I’ll understand or not be angry or whatever, but I think I deserve a real answer beyond ‘I don’t know anything about you’</em></p><p><b>From Wade</b>: <em>Leave it alone, Pete. </em></p><p><b>From Peter</b>:<em> This is bullshit and you know it. </em></p><p><b>From Wade</b>: <em>Yeah</em>. </p><p>
  <b>From Wade:</b>
  <em> Yeah, I know it. </em>
</p><p>Peter’s heats got bad again, crampy and <em>painful</em>, drawn out and entirely awful. His sheets were soaked more in sweat and less in slick as heat arousal faded away beneath desperation over missing his mate, the vibrators offered no relief, and no over the counter pain meds took the edge off the <em>empty</em>. </p><p>Wade stared at the circled dates on the calendar until his vision blurred and his eyes crossed because he and Pete might not really talk anymore but that didn’t mean he wasn’t fully aware that his Omega was deep in heat. It didn’t mean Wade wasn’t feeling guilty that Peter more than likely couldn’t get a single ounce of relief or pleasure from the days spent in bed.</p><p>Heat before an Alpha might be tough, but heat after an Alpha was tougher. </p><p>Heat after knowing a mate’s scent and having their voice close would be full on torture. </p><p>
  <em>Sorry sorry sorry my mate. </em>
</p><p>Peter came from his heat wrecked, exhausted and so angry he could cry, too dehydrated and miserable to even manage a few tears. </p><p>Wade came out of a guilt induced daze wondering if a bullet to the head would sever the mate connection he had with the Omega. Put them <em>both </em>out of misery. </p><p><b>From Peter</b>:<em> You’re a goddamn coward. </em></p><p>
  <strike><b>From Wade:</b> <em>Sounds about right. </em></strike>
</p><p>*************</p><p>Weasel must have asked him at least six different times if Wade knew exactly how creepy it was to ping Peter’s cell phone and use it to stalk to Omega. </p><p>“You’re <em>sure </em>you know how absolutely creepy this is?” The Beta asked, holding Wade’s phone out of reach and levelling his <em>most </em>judgmental look at the Alpha. “Because even for a mutated, regenerating literally barely sane piece of shit like you-- this is creepy. Not to mention bat shit crazy. Tell me again how you think this will work?” </p><p>“I dunno.” Wade had drunk approximately half the bar at this point and only felt  barely fucking buzzed. Damn mutation. He couldn’t even drown his sorrows anymore. Not with alcohol and not with actual <em>drowning</em>. </p><p>“I dunno.” He said again, grimacing over a shot of something more gasoline than liquor. “But it works in all the rom-com movies right? Omega says no, or there’s a fight or one of them moves across the country for a new life, then other one shows up during another date or crashes a party or makes some big scene at work and all is forgiven and they live happily ever after… it works.” </p><p>“Showing up with flowers and a sign that says ‘to me, you’re perfect’ is only borderline creepy compared to your ass pinging the kids phone and following him around town.” Weasel said bluntly. “Can’t express in enough words how different that is. Don’t get me wrong, most Alphas in those rom-coms belong in jail for being weirdos but I feel like <em>this </em>is crossing a line.” </p><p>“You contract hit jobs from behind the bar of a remodeled convent.” The Alpha popped his teeth in warning when Weasel tried to keep his phone again. “You are the last fucking person to talk about crossing a line.” </p><p>And then quieter-- “He won’t even know I’m there. I just gotta see him, just gotta see Pete once. One time and then I’ll leave him alone. Change my number or whatever so he can move on. It’ll be fine.” </p><p>“It won’t.” the Beta decided. “But it’s not like I can stop you so at least shower before you go all peeping Tom on the kid. You smell like something shit in a--” </p><p>Wade was gone before Weasel finished the sentence so the Beta shrugged and went back to wiping down the bar. </p><p>This wouldn’t be the first time people talked about slightly creepy things in his bar, would definitely not be the last. </p><p><b>From Wade</b>:<em> Are you working today? </em></p><p><b>From Peter</b>: <em>Fuck. Off. </em></p><p>It took two showers for Wade to feel clean again, scrubbing off weeks of depression and self- caused angst. His skin stung and itched and <em>hurt </em>but he slathered some aloe lotion over the mess-- he’d once asked Pete what helped with hives and the Omega had sworn by aloe-- and then dressed in <strike>stalkery clothes</strike> dark jeans and an oversized hoodie to hide as much of himself as possible before setting out. </p><p>Tracking Peter’s phone was almost laughably easy-- or it <em>would </em>have been laughable if Wade wasn’t so freaking nervous about every single step that took him closer towards Peter’s apartment. They lived less than twenty blocks apart so the Alpha just walked, weaving in and out of the crowds and keeping his head down as he followed the blinking dot closer and closer towards his Omega and closer and closer towards what was sure to be a spectacular breakdown. </p><p>They’d been so close all this time and the Omega was right, Wade was a goddamn <em>coward </em>because he could have done this weeks ago, he could have done this months ago when Peter texted him for the first time and he saw that identical area code. </p><p>And oh shit, while he was on the thoroughly depressing topic of how he should have gone to find Peter months ago, Wade thought maybe he should have texted the Omega a picture of himself before hand. At least his skin, maybe even his fucked up face. Maybe not a picture but an explanation or-- or a hint or maybe when Peter had asked <em>why </em>Wade could have explained at least a little bit why he looked like a reject from a horror show. </p><p>He could have explained about Vanessa maybe, he could have explained about Ajax and Angel and the way he’d thought there was a cure but there <em>wasn’t </em>and he was sorry, he was so sorry that Peter was stuck with a fugly mate like him but--</p><p>--”<em>Glymph</em>?!?” was the thoroughly awkward noise Wade made when he was grabbed by something-- a rope, maybe? Did someone just lasso his ass in the middle of a crowded intersection in Queens?-- and then the Alpha made another equally awkward and just as surprised noise when he was less than gently <em>slammed </em>against the wall of a nearby alley and pinned there with a hand that was way too small to be quite so strong. </p><p>“Uh...what now?” </p><p>
  <em>Omega. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Lavender. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Honeysuckle.</em>
</p><p><em>Peter</em>.</p><p>
  <em>Oh shit.</em>
</p><p>“Wade.” The Omega had come out of no where, somehow gotten Wade out of the crowd and into an alley in a half second and now was standing close enough for the Alpha to see just how ridiculously thick those lashes were, how high the fluffy hair stood, how adorable the sprinkling of freckles was across Peter’s pert nose. </p><p><em>Wow</em>. </p><p>“I know it’s you.” To his credit, Peter didn’t so much as flinch looking at Wade’s damage, the beautiful dark eyes didn’t widen in surprise or disgust, the hand at the Alpha’s chest didn't falter. If anything, the Omega looked angry, looked almost furious and his teeth bared in a half quiet snarl as he asked, “What the hell are you doing here?” </p><p>“I-- I--” <em>God</em>, his mate was beautiful. “I--” </p><p>Wade didn’t know what to say and the hesitation cost him when the anger in Peter’s gaze burned suddenly brighter and then just as suddenly fell into sadness. </p><p>“What are you doing here?” Softer this time, and the Omega stepped back, shoved both hands into the pockets of his skinny jeans and looked <em>away </em>from Wade, swallowed hard like it hurt to even breathe the same air. “I know it’s you. You didn’t see me but I’d know your scent anywhere, Alpha. Even in a crowd. Even without seeing you before.” </p><p>“Pete--” </p><p>“What are you <em>doing </em>here?” </p><p>“I know this is creepy.” Like he always did, Wade just said the first thing that came to mind, no matter how stupid or awkward or ridiculous. “I know this is creepy but I had to see you. I pinged your phone and just followed it here. I had to see you.” </p><p>“You had to see me.” Peter still wasn’t looking at him. “So it’s been weeks since <em>you </em>decided we weren’t going to go any further, and then <em>you </em>decided <em>you </em>had to see me so <em>you </em>decided to show up and what? Try to disrupt my life? Follow me around? What were you planning on doing?” </p><p>“I just--” Wade folded his arms and hunched his shoulders, tried not to stare at everything perfect about his mate and tried to remember why he had ever thought this was a good idea. “Fuck, Pete. I just wanted to see you. Just once.” </p><p>“No.” The Omega said flatly. </p><p>“...no?” </p><p>“No.” Peter shook his head. “No, because when <em>I</em> wanted to see you, you said no without explanation or reason or warning. So <em>no</em>. You don’t get to be sort of weirdly romantic showing up unannounced after weeks of me missing you, just because you want to see me once and then leave me to my life like you’re some-- some--” </p><p>He gestured briefly. “--some tragic hero in a gothic romance. No. <em>No</em>.” </p><p>“No.” the Alpha repeated, shuffled his feet and cleared his throat past the ball of <em>anxious </em>threatening to strangle him. “I’m um… I’m weirdly romantic, huh? A tragic hero?” </p><p>“You’re a goddamn coward and deserve to eat shit for breaking my heart.” Peter <em>still </em>wasn’t looking at him and Wade tried to shrink further back into the hoodie, but then-- “And it’s pissing me off that I think this is romantic, so just stop.” </p><p>“You think this is romantic?”</p><p>“I said <em>stop</em>.” </p><p>“Pete.” Wade was whispering, barely audible, his voice cracking and fear twisting his stomach up in knots even as the tiniest, tiniest flicker of hope flared up in his heart. “Omega. Look at me? Just once.” </p><p>“I’ve already seen you.” Peter’s voice was wobbling too, and the tiny flicker of hope grew a little brighter. “You’re big and beefy and stupid.” </p><p>“Baby boy.” The Alpha barely dared to take a little step forward, to extend his calloused, scarred up palm towards his mate, to run the risk that maybe Peter was just as afraid of all this as he was. “...Please?” </p><p>“That’s cheating.” <em>Christ</em>, Peter’s eyes were gorgeous when he finally turned to look at Wade, bright molten gold and shimmering with tears as he stared at his mate, his <em>Alpha</em>. “That’s cheating. You can’t call me that name when I should put you through the wall for taking so long to come find me.” </p><p>“Maybe we can talk later about how it’s cute that a tiny thing like you is threatening me with violence.” Wade inched forward again, breath hitching when Peter moved maybe a hairsbreadth towards him as well. “But first could I-- could we-- holy fuck knuckles you’re so pretty, Omega. Look at your <em>eyes</em>.” </p><p>“Look at <em>yours</em>.” the Omega retorted. “You look all possessive and dumb and <em>hot </em>and growly super red like that. And by the way ‘fuck knuckles’ isn’t the best thing to say to your mate--” </p><p>--Wade’s growl <em>snapped </em>from his chest, echoed around the alley and even had a few passers-by jumping and hurrying away from the noise. </p><p>“Again.” he rumbled. “Say it again.”</p><p>And Peter swallowed, wet his lips with a distractingly pink tongue, repeated, “--your <em>mate</em>.” </p><p>“Jesus.” Wade ran both hands over his scalp in disbelief at finally <em>hearing </em>it, then grimaced away from the baldness, all the scars and rough patches. “Jesus Pete, baby boy, I gotta-- I gotta hold you, can I hold you?” </p><p>“You either hold me right now or I’m gonna go upstairs and full on burn your hoodie, I swear to <em>god.</em>” </p><p>The Alpha caught Peter up in a desperate hug, too tight <em>too tight</em> but the Omega only whined and clung just as tight and then <em>tighter </em>until Wade swore he was maybe bruising beneath Peter’s grip which was crazy but not half as crazy as the way Peter wasn’t shying away or flinching from his mess. </p><p>And then even crazier somehow, <em>somehow </em>the Omega leaned away and brushed gentle gentle fingers over Wade’s cheek, purred soft and soft and so so <em>sweet </em>as he touched everything Wade had been so afraid to show.</p><p>“Do you hurt, Alpha?” he whispered, and Wade whispered back, “Not-- not like this. Not when it’s you.” </p><p>“<em>Oh</em>.” </p><p>“Omega.” Wade pushed their foreheads together and tried to tell himself to <em>breathe </em>as he clutched at Peter’s waist, dug his fingers into the Omega’s shirt and soaked in the warmth from satiny perfect skin. “Pete. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry about everything I said and everything I <em>didn’t </em>say and that I’m not half as pretty as you are and I’m sorry if--” </p><p>“Alpha.” Peter cut in and shook his head, mouth turning up in the best smile the Alpha had ever ever seen. “I’m willing to forgive your absolute bullshit text messages and all your terrible jokes and the way you downplayed the size of your biceps if you’ll just <em>talk </em>to me.” </p><p>“...yeah?” </p><p>“There’s a lot we need to talk about with me too.” the Omega said honestly. “And not all of it will be believable and not all of it will be easy, but my offer stands. Let’s talk and we’ll work it out and I’ll forgive your bullshit…” he hesitated, lifted Wade’s hoodie just enough to get a peek at washboard abs. “...if you take your shirt off.” </p><p>“Horny Omega.” Wade’s laugh was almost a sob. “What the fuck.” </p><p>“You knew who I was when you stalked me.” Peter decided, then reached and wove their hands together, closed his eyes when the Alpha inched even closer. “What took you so long to come and get me anyway?” </p><p>“I’m an idiot?” Wade guessed, and his mate chuckled quietly. “Okay but really. Listen. <em>Listen</em>, Pete. I can’t promise being with me will always be easy. And there is so much we need to talk about. But if you can give me another chance, if you can look past all this shit and just know I’ll never let you be lonely ever again, I swear-- I <em>swear</em>--” </p><p>“Alpha.” the Omega interrupted. “You wanna commit a crime?” </p><p>“Uh.” Wade blinked. “Always? But I dunno if now is the time?” </p><p>“Sure it is.” Peter stood up on his toes until their mouths nearly met. “Lets commit a crime. I’ll steal your heart...and you steal mine.” </p><p>“<em>Omega</em>.” </p><p>“Then neither one of us will ever be lonely.” he tipped his head so their lips brushed only lightly, only barely. “My mate. Kiss me.” </p><p><em>Yes</em>. </p>
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